I tapped a twig against my thigh, watching the soldiers through the trees. "You're certain?"
Princess squatted in the dirt, digging a furrow through the bracken to examine the wiggling creatures in the dirt. The soil was rich and healthy, teeming with earthworms and insects. Nature recovering just fine after the fall of humanity. She sighed, folding the soil back over.
"They didn't let a lot slip but I think they forgot I was up there," she said, looking up at me from her low position. "No matter what they told our lovely boy soldier, I got the definite impression we aren't the first Revived they've seen."
The thought was an unsettling one. The way Kit told it, our human compatriots couldn't believe we existed but if they had encountered altered zombies like us before, why keep it a secret?
"What's your take on all this?" We might have had our differences in the beginning, but I had come to respect Princess a great deal. Not that I would ever tell her, it would go straight to her head.
She stood, dusting a bit of dirt off her fishnets. "Soldiers love their classified info, but this feels like a dirty secret you tell after one too many shots," she said, looking thoughtful. "It feels like politics."
Politics. Give me an alien fire fight any day of the week. Fort Braydon had a militarized structure, peppered by a few personal qualms but was mostly politics free. It ran on precision, habit, and instinct. Probably why we all got along as well as we did. I knew the human city had to run on some sort of governing system, but the idea of secrets and subterfuge wasn't something I thought about.
"We should get back," I said, gathering up a hefty handful of dry dead wood.
Princess hesitated, drumming her fingers against a nearby tree. "Maybe we shouldn't. It might be a good idea to gather the others and head back for the Fort."
I studied her in the rapidly fading daylight. We'd spent far longer out here talking than we should have. I was surprised they hadn't sent someone looking for us despite the possible dangers of our surroundings. "Are you that worried?"
She fidgeted, on the verge of possibly divulging something when Curley crashed through the branches.
"Sorry to bother you ladies," he said, apologetic but determined. "Everyone's wondering where you wandered off to."
I watched Princess, her expression wavered to the patented breezy charm she used to deflect. "We were enjoying a little girl time, Chuckles. What's wrong, Petra can't stand not having us in plain sight?"
The poor guy cringed. "Actually, that's it exactly. They sent me so she didn't have an excuse to come after you herself."
Just what we needed. "Come on, we'll talk later."
"Not bloody likely," muttered Princess, shoving her armful of branches into Curley's hands.
We walked back into a tense semi standoff.
The soldiers clustered loosely around the truck, though they were clearly guarding its contents. The Revived hovered around the fringes of the set up perimeter, uncomfortable with whatever was going down. In the middle Petra, Kit, and JD appeared engaged in a furious discussion. I sidled up to one of the newer Revived, a middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair. There were deep creases at her mouth and eyes in her otherwise smooth face. In my hopes that JD or one of the others would step up into a leadership role, I had been slow to warm up to the influx of the newly altered.
"What's going on Rosa?" That said, I knew all of them by name.
She blinked at me in surprise, her eyes a warm light brown, like frozen maple syrup. "They are arguing about patrols and watches for the night," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She had to be around sixty when she died, maybe older, it was hard to tell. Her voice had a lilting accent to it. "The soldiers do not trust us to patrol alone." She tched with her teeth. "Paranoid idiots," she added in a mutter. I liked her already.
"I can't argue with that," I said, nudging my way through in time to hear the Ice Queen voice a slur about 'dead heads' that sounded rather insulting.
"Oh piss off, Petra," Kit snapped, clearly at the end of his patience. I must have missed quite the row. JD's jaw muscles looked like they'd been clenched for the past hour.
"How about instead of arguing which team has the better players, why don't combine efforts and pair off?" I held up a hand the moment Petra opened her mouth to argue. "Teams of four, two breathers, two Revived. Would that be enough? I'll take first shift myself."
Petra's mouth snapped shut, clearly still riled but willing to listen. Whatever else she thought of us, at least she could listen. "That sounds like a satisfactory arrangement. Who else will take first watch with you?"
"I will," JD spoke up.
For a second she looked relieved. "That will be adequate."
"I'll take the breather's first shift," said Kit, smirking at me. I looked away, realizing I hadn't used that slang in front of him before.
Petra had a moment of internal conflict. "Clancy!"
A lanky dude with a mop of brown curls stepped over to us. "Yes, mam?" He saluted, his rounded jaw baby smooth. Had he hit puberty yet? Least his voice didn't crack.
"Clancy, do you comfortable taking first watch with Corporal Daniels?"
I raised an eyebrow at JD, mouthing corporal? He shrugged.
Clancy's eyes widened at JD's appearance but he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Go grab some grub," she said, dismissing the younger man. She turned to Kit's expectant expression. "I'm surprised you don't feel the need to rest yourself, you idiot. You ran all day too."
"I can handle a couple hours on watch," he said. Petra snorted, breaking off to help the others set up for the night.
***
"Fancy meeting you here," said Kit, easing on the ground next to me. The dark hid my goofy grin. He nudged my shoulder. "Our 'idiot' is a miracle worker."
It had been an awkward few hours as the humans of the group met their biological needs, eating while the rest of us sat around twiddling our collective thumbs. It was circumstances like this that brought to light the many physiological differences between humans and Revived. Fred managed to make light of the situation by challenging the young Clancy to a beat box competition.
I couldn't figure out how the hell he knew how to beat box or where he came up with the idea. I don't know why he thought it was a good idea but it was the ice breaker they needed. I even caught a small smile on Petra's face.
"He is certainly special," I said. And probably snuggled with Ginger in a tree somewhere.
"Did you really pick him up in a Walmart?"
"Reading dirty magazines," I said. Kit chuckled. It was a nice sound. I caught the faint scent of mint. He'd made use of his coveted toiletries.
The chuckle dropped off into silence. We sat beside each other, facing the barbed wire, the heat of the low fire at our backs. JD and Clancy were on the far side, the others were resting, which meant Kit and I had a moment of actual privacy.
I puffed my cheeks, casting about for something to say since Kit failed to hold up his end of the conversation. Though, there was something that had been bugging me ever since Princess brought it up.
"Um, if you don't mind me asking, where did Petra get that gnarly looking scar?"
That was a mistake. Kit sighed through his nose, leaning back to look at the night sky. His sister was likely the last thing he wanted to talk about but the question was already out, sitting like a fat slimy slug between us. I opened my mouth to take it back, tell him he didn't have to tell me squat but he spoke.
"I used to be an uncle," he said, keeping his face turned to the stars. "My sister was a wonderful mom. She had this beautiful little boy, Nichols, named after our father. Barely four years old when the world went to shit."
Past tense. This was going to be bad.
"Her husband got turned early on. She put him down when he came after her and Nick in their house. She ran with her boy, protected him. She was so fierce. She and I, we both got bit early on, found out we were immune. We hoped he was like us."
My throat felt tight as I realized why the scar on Petra's throat looked too small to be an adult.
"Some zombies caught us by surprise one night, out in the open. Half a dozen of them. One of them got through us and tore into him. Petra fought so hard but she didn't make it in time. He bled out in her arms. She didn't realize he'd turned until he sank his teeth into her neck," said Kit. His voice was dead pan, mechanical, the emotions buried deep. He finally looked at me, his face hard to read in the faint orange glow of the fire.
"She wasn't always a cold bitch, Li," he said. "Not until she buried her heart."
"Kit, I--"
A zombie tripped into my lap, its legs still tangled in the wire. Kit yelped, jumping to his feet as the zombie tilted its rotted face to look at me with milky eyes.
"Son of a bitch!" Kit shouted as two more hit the wire, snagging on it as they surged forward. I heard a yell behind us a second before an undead torso hit the ground inside the perimeter, clawing forward. The camp erupted into chaos
"Everybody up!"
"Look out!"
Someone screamed in pain, a wet strangled sound. There were more inside? How had they gotten past us? The zombie in my lap was silent, clutching at my sleeves. For a second I could feel its helplessness, a pulse of desperation before Kit's boot smacked it in the ribs, batting it off me. I scrambled to my feet, disoriented, trying to make sense of the teeming mass of shadowy figures. Gunshots filled the air, assaulting my ears with explosive cracks. Another zombie grabbed my ankle, or was it the same sad figure as before? I stared down at it a moment before its skulls burst open from a bullet.
"Stop," I whispered, looking up. They came out of nowhere, dozens of them. More zombies than could possibly sustain themselves this far from a city. Where had they come from?
The soldiers were clambering onto and into the transport. One was slumped against the back tire, attempting to shove his intestines back into his stomach, unaware of the zombies closing in on him. I recognized that curly mop of hair...
"Clancy," I said, soft, speaking to no one.
Petra was next to him. Swinging her emptied rifle like a bat to bludgeon the approaching undead. The other Revived were swarmed. I caught sight of Fred as he tossed another zombie off into the woods like a corpse Frisbee.
Why was this happening?
I heard another cry as the zombies flanked the unguarded side of the truck, grabbing a soldier perched in the back. Princess seized the man's arms, smashing her heel into the attacking zombie's face.
How would they know to attack that side? I stopped, feeling a tingle on the back of my neck. I turned away from the fight, looking past the staggering bodies coming towards us.
The moon caught her face just right, a ghostly silhouette in the night. Somehow she had lead them here. Her blonde hair lifted on the breeze as our eyes met.
Another Revived had ambushed us with their own zombie horde.